


How Not to Surprise a Spy

by StBridget



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Family Fluff, Father's Day, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-08 23:54:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11092563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StBridget/pseuds/StBridget
Summary: Jack sure has some strange intruders. . .





	How Not to Surprise a Spy

**Author's Note:**

> MacGyver is property of CBS and its creators.
> 
> There's been too much dark Mac/Murdoc stuff lately, and I'm probably going to add to it, so I thought we needed a little fluff. Enjoy!

A loud crash woke Jack Dalton from a sound sleep. Before he even consciously realized it, the gun under his pillow was in his hand, and he was across the room, hand on the doorknob. He paused to take stock. There were no more crashes, but he could hear people moving about, and voices drifted down the short hall separating the bedroom from the rest of the apartment. It sounded like whoever it was wasn’t even trying to be quiet. And just who _was_ in his apartment at—he risked a quick look at the clock—7 am on a Sunday morning?

 

Jack cursed himself. Whoever it was shouldn’t have gotten this far into the apartment without him noticing, especially since they weren’t even trying to be quiet. Admittedly, Jack didn’t have an alarm system—he figured anybody who wanted to kill him wouldn’t have a problem getting around it, and ordinary burglars probably wouldn’t go through the trouble of breaking into a third-floor apartment in an access-controlled building—Jack made sure his apartment was far away from the fire escape. Still, years of special ops meant, even in a deep sleep, Jack usually woke at the slightest disturbance. With intruders this loud, he should have been awake the moment they set foot in the apartment.

 

Which begged another question. Why hadn’t they checked to see if he were here? Even burglars ought to have sense enough to make sure no one was home, and there was no way anyone but the stupidest bad guys would search an apartment without clearing it first. If they had, Jack would be dead or out of commission—if he hadn’t gotten them first.

 

The talking continued, and there was another bang. A faint, acrid smell met his nose. Were they trying to set the apartment on fire? That would explain why they didn’t care if he were around—he’d just burn to death. Still, fires were a slow way to kill someone—it wasn’t a good thing to count on them to take out your opponent. That brought Jack back to the idea that these intruders were really, really stupid.

 

Jack crept down the hall, gun at the ready, using the noise the intruders were making to mask his approach. He paused at the entrance to the living space, back against the wall. He cautiously poked his head out, scanning the living room quickly. Nothing looked out of place. The sun streamed in through the open window (it was June in LA, and it was plenty hot, and the building didn’t have central air. Again, he wasn’t near the fire escape, so he wasn’t inclined to worry about inviting intruders in through the window). Its rays fell on the ratty plaid sofa taking up most of the room. The big entertainment system was untouched, and that would be the first thing burglars would go for. It was looking more and more likely it was someone after Jack himself, or something they thought he had (and really, Jack wasn’t stupid enough to keep _anything_ in his apartment. There were only so many places to stash something, and most of them could be easily found with a little effort. Anything important was in a secure safe deposit not even Jack’s best friend and partner Angus MacGyver knew about, though there were instructions in case of Jack’s death).

 

More noises caught Jack’s attention. He listened carefully. They seemed to be coming from the kitchen. The voices were muted by a whirring sound. Was that a  _mixer_ ? Were the bad guys  _cooking_ in his apartment? What the hell was up with that?

 

Jack eased out of his hiding place.  The kitchen was separated from the living room by only a short counter, and Jack could plainly see that the intruders were, indeed in t here . Jack did a double-take. The three figures looked awfully familiar. He could swear they looked a lot like Mac, Mac’s friend and roommate Wilt Bozer, and Riley Davis, the computer specialist on their team. The impression was confirmed by what was clearly Bozer’s voice. 

 

“Dude, you’re burning the fritata. I swear, Mac, you can make a stove out of odds and ends lying around, but you can’t actually _use_ it. And Riley, turn that mixer down. You’re getting batter all over the place! There won’t be any left for the muffins!”

 

Jack dropped his gun and stepped fully into view. “What on earth do you think you’re doing?”

 

His unexpected voice caused all three to jump. They turned towards his voice, identical guilty expressions on their faces. “ Making you breakfast?” Riley said in a small voice. She was covered with batter, globs in her dark, curly hair, streaks across her face. She looked like a child playing chef and doing a bad job. Really, Jack reflected, that was pretty apt considering the situation.

 

“Why?” Jack wanted to know.

 

“It’s Father’s Day,” Mac said, as if that was all the explanation that was needed.

 

“I’m not your father,” Jack said, though inside he was touched.

 

“Maybe not,” Riley said. “But you’re a father to us. You look after us, you give us a shoulder to cry on, you cheer us on. You’re more of a father to us than our real fathers.” There was a note of sadness in her voice. Mac nodded in agreement, sadness also evident on his face.

 

Jack felt a pang of sympathy for the two, as he often did. Poor kids. Of course he looked out for them;  _someone_ had to, and, like Riley implied, their real fathers certainly wouldn’t. Mac’s dad was god knows where, and the less said about Riley’s father the better. Bozer’s home life was pretty good, but Jack still cared for him like one of his own. “I’m touched,” he said, honestly. He moved into the kitchen, looking to see what they had made. “What are you making me?”

 

“Well, we _were_ making an artichoke pancetta fritatta and cranberry orange muffins, but these two”-- Bozer gestured at his companions--”are hopeless in the kitchen.” As if to prove his point, the smoke alarm chose that moment to go off.

 

Jack looked at the pan billowing smoke and took in the batter spattered everywhere, not just on Riley. Dude, was it on his  _ceiling_ ? It was going to take forever to get this mess cleaned up. “I appreciate the thought,” he said, “but how about you take me out to IHOP instead?”

 

His friends—his  _family--_ looked relieved.

 

“Sounds like a great idea,” Mac said. 


End file.
